


For Rent

by rowofstars



Series: Once Upon a Ficlet [7]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Awkward Flirting, F/M, Ficlet, Fluff, Landlord Gold, Librarian Belle, Mutual Pining, Prompt Fic, Romance, ficlet that turned into a multi-chapter thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-09-01 13:42:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8626708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowofstars/pseuds/rowofstars
Summary: For the Spite Prompt-a-thon, prompted by leni-ba: Rumbelle + "Call me tomorrow."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what happened here.

Gold was already starting to smile as he pushed open the doors to the library. It was hard not to when he was anticipating seeing the lovely Miss French. Most people in Storybrooke didn’t like to see him coming their way, but every time he came into the library she was ready with a warm smile and a friendly greeting. Sometimes they would even chat for a bit while she took her time returning his book and checking the next one out. He never minded the extra time.

But today she was not smiling, and Gold frowned as he approached the circulation desk. Normally she would have stood up out of her chair by now, her short stature making it so she couldn’t see over the high part of the counter to the door. Instead he found her sitting off to the side by the computer, her elbows up on the desk and her face buried in her hands.

“Miss French?” he asked carefully.

She looked up quickly, eyes wide and red. He knew immediately that she’d been crying and he felt a tinge of anger well up inside him. Whoever had upset her would be dealing with the end of his cane within the hour.

“Oh,” she said, swiping her hands over her cheeks. “Mr. Gold, I’m sorry! I didn’t hear you come in.”

She stood and plastered on a smile, reaching out to take the book from him.

“That’s quite alright, Miss French,” he said softly, watching as she went through the motions of stamping the book and scanning the barcode to check it back in. “Can I ask what upset you?”

Belle stopped what she was doing and looked down at the desk, exhaling slowly. She had hoped that she could collect herself before anyone came in, but she hadn’t noticed the time. Mr. Gold always came by after lunch, usually just before one. Most would probably think of him as the last person to tell their troubles to, but then most probably didn’t know him like she did. Not that she really knew him, not - well, not in the way she might want to.

“Well,” she started. “It looks like I’ll be moving.”

Gold blanched. Belle French was leaving Storybrooke. The only other human being in the entire town he gave a flying flip about, the one bright spot in his Tuesdays, the woman of his dreams - was leaving him. Okay leaving him was a stretch. But he couldn’t help the leaden feeling in his chest at the thought of never seeing her again.

“Oh,” he managed. “I - I see.” He glanced at her face, noting the lingering trails in her makeup left behind by her tears. “And, um, where will you be moving to?”

She let out a short, humorless laugh and looked around the space. “Oh, I don’t know yet.”

He frowned. “You don’t know?”

Belle shrugged and met his eyes for the first time. “Well, I’ve made a few calls, but there aren’t any openings so far. I might just have to live out of my car for a while!” She tried to laugh again, but it was flat and as the sound faded off she was nearly in tears again.

“What? I’m sorry, I don’t follow,” Gold said, still frowning. “Why would you need to live in your car? Don’t you have job somewhere else?”

Her brow wrinkled in confusion for a few seconds before she shook her head. “Oh, no no no! I’m not leaving Storybrooke, just my apartment!”

Her clarification did not help Gold understand what was going on, though he was immediately relieved she wasn’t moving away from town.

“I’m sorry, Miss French,” he said. “I still don’t know what the problem is.”

She sighed. “Well, it’s this building,” she explained. “Apparently it’s condemned.”

Gold’s eyes went wide and he looked around the space quickly, eyeing the ceiling for spots that looked like they might cave in or widening cracks in the walls. But the entire library had been renovated just a few years ago, just before Belle moved to town and took the position as librarian.

“But - that’s -” he stammered. “That’s not _possible_.”

“I don’t understand it all myself,” she said, sighing again. “But Mayor Mills and Leroy were here just a little while ago and explained that when they fixed up the place before I started, they apparently made the second and third stories unsafe. No one realized it until the tile in my bathroom floor started cracking.”

Gold was still frowning, but now he was at least understanding the situation.

“I called Leroy to come look at it,” she continued. “The cracks were going everywhere! And he thought that it just needed to be replace and the subfloor redone, but once he got into it yesterday he found out it was all uneven and well -”

She waved a hand and let it fall against her thigh with a light smack. “So as of this weekend, I’m homeless, unless I can find a place on short notice.” Then she scoffed. “But I’ve called three places that had ads in the paper, two are spoken for, and the third is by the docks and I just can’t stand the smell from the fishing boats.”

Gold’s relief was shifting to near elation. Miss French needed a place to stay, and he was in a perfect position to help. And not just because he owned half the real estate in town. He’d recently acquired a house in his neighborhood, just across the street from his stately Victorian in fact. It was a lovely two bedroom bungalow with a big front porch and a small garden in the back. The old woman who had lived there move to Florida to some fancy retirement community, and he’d snatched it up at almost half market value.

It would need cleaning up, but he knew it would be perfect for Belle. Er, Miss French. It wasn’t too big, there were built in bookshelves in the living room, and it would mean they would be neighbors. He would see her much more often now. Probably every day as they left for work. And every evening when they came home.

Maybe even on Sundays for tea.

Well, that was perhaps getting a bit ahead of himself.

“Mr. Gold?”

Belle’s voice brought him out of his daydream and back to the conversation at hand.He straightened and smiled, and reached into his suit jacket for one of his business cards.

“I believe I might be able to be of some assistance, Miss French,” he said, flipping over the card to scribble down a phone number on the back before holding it out to her. She reached for it and took the card hesitantly, studying the number he’d written.

“That’s my personal cell number,” he explained, as her eyebrows lifted. “I may have a place you could stay.”

“Oh,” she gasped, looking from him to the business card in her hand and back again.

“For rent, of course,” he continued, not wanting to give her the wrong impression. Yes, she’d be his tenant, but she was very trustworthy and he wouldn’t dream of charging her more than he knew she could afford. A librarian’s salary in a town like Storybrooke didn’t go far. Oh, who was he kidding, he’d barely charge her enough to cover the annual property taxes. It was worth it just to have her so close by.

“I - I don’t know what to say,” she said, smiling as tears welled up in her eyes.

“Yes, well, “ he started as she came around the side of the desk and over to him. “It’s nothing. You see I just have this - _oof!_ ”

Gold held himself stiffly as Belle French flung her arms around his neck and hugged him. He tried to lean away but all that did was pull her up against him as she squeezed and held on.

“Thank you,” she whispered, briefly pressing her nose to the side of his neck. He smelled so good and this was probably her only chance to ever be this close to him.

Immediately he felt flushed and like every hair was standing on end. “Y-yes,” he said. “Yes, that’s -”

She pulled back, still smiling, and he caught himself beaming at her like an idiot.

“You’re, uh, you’re very welcome,” he said. Then he hastily added a ‘Miss French,’ which made her giggle.

“You can call me Belle, you know.”

He nodded, still smiling. “Belle,” he repeated, liking the way her name felt on his tongue entirely too much.

She looked over to the desk where his card was sitting, and then back to him. “So, um, what do I -?”

“Oh, right,” Gold said, shaking himself out his pathetic lovesick stupor. “Uh, just call me tomorrow and we’ll work out the details, alright?” She nodded, and then something he didn’t understand possessed him to add, “Perhaps over lunch? Burgers at Granny’s?”

Her mouth open and closed, and for a second he thought she was going to yell at him. But then she was smiling wider than he’d ever seen right before biting her bottom lip adorably.

“I’d like that,” she replied.

He nodded, holding the handle of his cane with both hands. He’d never been more thankful for it in his life as he was pretty sure it was the only thing holding him up. “Good.”

The rest of his day was spent making all the arrangements to have the house cleaned, the lawn mowed, and the rooms painted as soon as she picked out the colors she would like. He didn’t even realize until he got home that evening that he never checked out another book. It didn’t matter. He had plenty of his own books to read. And if he was very lucky, he might find his collection growing even more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from ghostwriter107: Belle asks permission to paint a couple of walls (for color). When Gold comes by to lend a hand, he finds her singing off-key and thinks it's the most charming thing he's ever heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a bit of a thing now. :) But I think these two did need some follow up. They are so cute and precious. Unbeta'd so please point out any typos.

Gold stared out the window of the front parlor in his large Victorian house. His eyes were focused on the door of the little bungalow across the street.

Belle’s house.

The very idea delighted him and he was so happy that she’d accepted his offer to rent it to her. It had been a matter of a day for Mr. Dove to get the place cleaned up and aired out after his fortuitous visit to the library. She’d been living there for two months now, but he knew that inside was still in a bit of disarray. She said she hadn’t decided where everything was going to go yet, that she had to let the place tell her how things should be. It seemed a bit silly, but he could understand it. Sometimes you needed to live in a place for a while to really see how it worked for you.

Almost every morning so far he’d seen her as he climbed into his black Cadillac. She always had a smile and a wave for him. She preferred to walk to work, and he would have loved to join her, but his leg just wouldn’t allow it. Luckily, it had rained on last Thursday and he’d been able to offer her a ride. It was the best five minutes he’d spent in ages, which was quite pathetic if he really thought about it. But it was Belle and it was hard to feel anything but joy when he was around her.

And then she’d asked if she could paint.

Just a couple of rooms, she’d said. Just to brightened them up.

Of course he’d said yes, which brought him to his present contemplation. While he trusted her not to paint hot pink stripes in the hall, or put up leopard print wallpaper in the bedroom, he was a bit - worried. It was a rental property of course and he usually didn’t allow such things. In fact the lease she’d signed had explicitly stated the color of the walls would remain as they were when she moved in. But she’d been so hopeful and sweet, her eyes wide and shining up at him.

He was a weak man.

And so he stared out the window and contemplated what she might be doing and wished he could see the colors so his mind was at ease. Yes, it was strictly about the paint color. He frowned again and decided a quick visit wouldn’t hurt. Maybe he could bring up the need to amend the rental contract. That would give him an excuse to visit her at the library beyond just returning a book.

The doorbell went unanswered, which made Gold frown. He knew she was home, she’d gone out early to get cans of paint from the hardware store, returning just after he was finishing with breakfast. Maybe she was in the back and hadn’t heard it?

He made his way around the side of the house, intending to see if she was outside, and maybe take a peek in through the patio doors. As he came to the kitchen window and the gate that lead to the garden, he heard something.

Singing.

It was a little flat and off key, but he smiled.

Belle was singing while she worked.

He shut his eyes and let the sound wash over him. It was a familiar song, a classic, and though some would say she was butchering it with her attempts to hit some of the higher notes, he thought it was one of the most lovely things he’d ever heard. She must be happy if she was singing with the windows wide open, knowing that anyone who might wander by could hear her. That in turn made him happy.

He lingered by the patio door, listening to her, until a noise startled him.

“Mr. Gold!” she exclaimed. “I - I wasn’t expecting you.”

Gold’s face fell. “Oh, I’m - I’m terribly sorry. I -”

He’d been caught lurking in her backyard like some kind of pervert.

“No!” she said, reaching for his hand and practically pulling him through the double doors. “Come in!”

He stumbled a bit over the threshold, but he couldn't bear to pull away from her touch. “Thank you,” he muttered.

“So, um,” she started, clapping her hands and turning around and then back to him. She hoped she didn’t have too much paint on her face. “What brings you over?”

There were tiny flecks of paint in her hair, and a smudge over her left eyebrow. She was wearing leggings that had a hole in the knee and a long t-shirt that slid to one side and exposed the light pink strap of her bra.

To him, she looked absolutely stunning.

He clenched his jaw so he wouldn’t gape at her. She was a mess and she was lovely. She was a lovely mess, and he was an idiot who had no business being here. He shouldn’t have snooped, shouldn’t have heard her and let himself get distracted. But she was so beautiful, smiling up at him with a lock of hair flopping over her forehead.

“I, uh -” he stammered. “I’m - I’m, um, here to help.”

Belle looked him up and down and laughed. He was wearing a dark gray suit with a dark purple shirt, and a matching tie with a swirling paisley pattern. He looked incredible, but he had no business painting in Armani.

“Oh,” she breathed. “I, um, that’s -”

“I just thought -” he started and stopped, and in the pause they both smiled. “I just thought you might like some help is all. If I’m intruding -”

“No!” she exclaimed again. “No. Not at _all_. It’s just - well, you’re not exactly wearing paint clothes, Mr. Gold.”

“Oh,” he said, looking down at himself and realizing his folly. “Right, um…”

A crooked smile curved his lips and he held out his cane for her to hold as he took off his suit jacket. He draped it over a nearby chair, and then loosened his tie, pulling it through his collar with a soft wispy sound. He glanced at Belle and saw her lick her lips. He wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but he proceeded with removing the rest of his unnecessary articles until he was in his trousers and shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“There,” he said.

Belle’s eyes roamed over him before settling on his face. She’d never seen him with so few layers of clothing. He’d unbuttoned the top three buttons on his shirt which left open a small triangle of bare skin from his neck to just under his collarbone. It was incredibly distracting.

Gold cleared his throat. He could have sworn her cheeks were flushed, but it was probably because she was a bit overheated from all the work she was doing.

“Do you have another brush?” he asked. She hadn’t moved yet, just stood there holding his cane.

“Oh, uh, y-yes,” she managed, blinking and shaking her head. She handed him back his cane and hurried to pick up another paintbrush from a bag sitting by the door. “Here you are.”

They worked mostly in silence, though there was the occasional bit of conversation about her plans for the house, books she’d been reading, and the usual goings on of Storybrooke. Sometimes she just talked and he listened, nodding and smiling as needed. But during the lags in conversation, he found it quite comfortable to just be in the room with her without the expectation of interaction.

“So,” Belle said, leaning back against the only unpainted wall. “I think after this I want to strip the paint off the mantel and stain it. Something dark so it stands out with the white trim and the bookshelves, you know?”

“Hmm,” Gold hummed and nodded, and then sipped at his glass of lemonade. He approved of all of her plans for the house, and indeed they were many of the same changes he would probably make if he was living here. It was nice to know they had similar preferences in interior design so he needn’t fear what she might do with the place. Though he hoped it would be her place for a long time.

They were on a bit of a break after having been crouched down for the better part of an hour painting the area just above the trim. She’d made fresh lemonade and pulled a bowl of strawberries from the fridge, and here they were happily sitting on her living room floor. The sunlight that had been streaming in through the patio doors and the living room windows reduced to not much more than a soft, hazy yellow glow.

“So what do you think?” she asked, looking at him as she popped a strawberry in her mouth. His eyes darkened a bit and she felt a flutter low in her belly.

He swallowed as she licked a bit of juice from her lips and then looked around the room. Before it had been a basic beige sort of color, very neutral, but bland. Now it was a very light yellow, sunny and bright, but not overly so. It was a color that would go with a lot of things, including the lacy sheer curtains she’d told him she bought for either side of the patio doors.

“I like it,” he declared, and when he turned to look at her she was practically beaming at him.

She stood, and held out a hand to help pull him to his feet. He would have felt self conscious about it if it were anyone else. But there was such an ease about being around her now that he couldn’t even muster up a self-deprecating comment.

“It’s getting late,” she said.

“Yes,” he agreed. “I should probably be getting home.”

She watched him roll down his shirt sleeves, her tongue darting out to wet her lips unconsciously. “Thank you,” she said. “I wouldn’t have gotten near as much done without you.”

Gold waved his hand as he put his jacket back on and stuffed the tie in his pocket. “It’s no matter. I’m sure you would have done just fine without an old man getting in the way.” She rolled her eyes at his comment, and he felt some odd sense of relief. “It was my pleasure.”

“You’ll have to come over and see it when it’s done,” Belle suggested. Then she looked down and swirled her brush in the paint.

“I’d like that,” he replied, his voice softening as he smiled.

She glanced up and smiled as well. “I hope to be done with the paint by next weekend. I, um, will probably spend part of Sunday organizing all my books into these lovely shelves.” 

She raised an eyebrow, and he swallowed. “Do you, um, have a lot of - of books?”

“A few boxes,” Belle answered with a shrug. There were actually seventeen boxes. “Not too many, I suppose.”

“Then you, ah, might have time for tea afterwards?” he offered hopefully. “In the afternoon? Unless of course you would, um, need help. With the books?”

She pressed her lips together and glanced towards the built in shelves along the wall. “Oh, I dare say I might.”

Gold tried and failed to hold back his grin. He bowed slightly, lifting his eyes to watch her face. “Then I am at your disposal, Miss French.”

Belle giggled, and he smiled widely. “See you Sunday, then, Mr. Gold.”

“Sunday,” he repeated with a nod. 

Then he let himself out the patio door and followed the little path back around the side of the house, back the same way he’d come in. He felt almost light headed, but he was sure that was just from the paint fumes. As he came around by the open kitchen window, he could hear Belle inside, singing. He paused for long enough to hear that it was the same song from earlier, and he smiled. 

Sunday might not be soon enough, he thought, but fortunately for him she did have an awful lot of painting to do.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the1ultimatefan prompted for my 1200 Follower promptathon: Belle bakes "too many" cookies/brownies/yummy things totally NOT having her new, sexy, neighbor in mind after he ever so sweetly helped her paint her new house, giving her an excuse to go over to his place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just silly and fluffy which kinda makes it fun to write. Anyway, nothing else wanted to be written so here we are. Unbeta'd and I'm sure errors abound.

Gold grumbled as a knock at the door interrupted his morning. He was washed, dressed, and his tea was nearly done. In twenty minutes he’d be leaving to open his shop by nine, as was his routine. As he approached the front door, several thoughts ran through this mind as to who it might be. Though he had allowed a tiny bit of hope that it might be his lovely neighbor, he didn’t actually believe that would be the case.

So of course when he pulled open the door and saw Belle French on the other side, he gaped like a fish.

Belle bit her lip as she looked up at him. “Good morning, Mr. Gold.”

He nodded dumbly.

“Is this a bad time?”

Gold shook himself and smiled. “No - no. And good morning.” he managed to reply. “This is just a bit - unexpected.”

She shrugged and held out a plate which he looked down at with curiosity. “What’s this then?”

“There, um, for you,” she explained, nodding towards the platter. “I thought - you know since you helped me paint.”

His lips pressed together as he reached for the proffered muffins. “Blueberry?”

Belle nodded and grinned. “I noticed you order one sometimes at Granny’s. I thought - um, if you don’t like them -”

Gold’s eyes snapped from the plate in his hand to her face. “No!” he exclaimed. “I mean they’re - they’re fine. My favorite as it happens.” 

He wasn’t the sort to lie to be nice, not even where Belle French was concerned. Blueberry really was one of his favorites. He could just barely smell them, and that combined with the foggy patch on the cling wrap covering the plate suggested that she had made them just that morning. Fresh homemade muffins delivered by the lovely Miss French seemed like a gift from the gods. He just barely resisted licking his lips.

She beamed at him, her hands clasped together in front of her. “I’m so glad!”

He smiled back at her and turned to set the platter of muffins down on the sideboard just inside the door. “You didn’t have to do this,” he said. “As much as I love a nice plate of muffins, helping you was - my pleasure.”

Belle flushed and looked down at her shoes for a moment. “I know, but I was making some for the fundraiser at the library, and just made a few too many.”

“Ah.” He tugged on the bottom of his suit jacket, straightening it needlessly. Then he frowned. “Fundraiser?”

She nodded again. “Yes, the city inspector found a few more _issues_ in course of inspecting my former apartment.”

Her lifted eyebrows and tilted head made him wonder. “A few _issues_?”

Belle sighed. “Something about old lead pipes and the roof repairs …” She trailed off and waved a hand, sighing heavily as her palm slapped against her thigh. “Anyway, Mayor Mills said there’s only enough in the budget to do half the work, so I’m starting a bit of a fundraiser. It’s just a little bake sale for now. I made some brownies and caramels, and Mary Margaret is helping. And I think Sister Astrid is going to get me some of those candles…?”

She trailed off again and took a breath, shrugging as she met Gold’s eyes again. “Sorry, I, um, ramble sometimes.”

Gold shook his head and smiled. “It’s no matter, Miss French,” he said. “But I insist on making a contribution to this fundraiser in exchange for these lovely muffins you’ve gifted me.”

He started to reach in his inside jacket pocket for his checkbook when Belle reached out and stopped him.

“No!” she exclaimed, squeezing his arm.

He froze when her hand touched him, and after a second she pulled away, clenching her hand into a fist and pressing it to her chest.

“I - I’m sorry, Mr. Gold,” she said, plaintively. “But those were a gift for helping me when you didn’t have to, because I very much appreciated it. You’ve helped me out a lot in the last couple of months. I can’t take your money.”

He huffed and fixed her with a hard stare for a moment, then the corner of his mouth started to curve. “How about I come by the library then and buy some of your delicious baked goods?”

Belle’s lips twitched as she fought to keep a straight face. “That would be very generous of you.”

Gold inclined his head and glanced back at the plate of muffins awaiting him. “I have some time before I need to open my shop,” he said. “If you would like to, uh, come in and have some tea and perhaps a muffin?”

She bit her lip and gave him a slightly pained look. “That’s very nice of you, but I’m afraid I told Mary Margaret I’d be at the library by eight to start setting up a table for the bake sale.”

His face fell, but he nodded. “I understand,” he said, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice and failing. “Some other time?”

She nodded and cocked her head as she gave him a small smile. “I make a pretty good banana nut muffin too.”

His eyebrows lifted for a second. “My second favorite.”

Belle laughed, and Gold felt his spirits lift considerably. Before he stopped by the library he’d have to have a chat with Regina and find out exactly how much the repairs would cost and who had done the estimate. The library was important and he felt the town deserved quality work and an honest price. It had nothing to do with his concern for Miss French and her books or her livelihood. It was just his civic duty as a member of the town council, that was all. 

And if he wrote an anonymous check for one very expensive brownie in the amount that the city couldn’t pay, well, that was just being a good citizen.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold makes a generous donation to the library, but Belle is unsettled by it and confronts him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone either in a comment or on Tumblr mentioned Gold being very generous with his library donation so I ran with it. A tiny little bit of angst at the beginning that I think you'll find happily resolved. This is all setup for the next two parts.

Belle stared at the check in her hands, her fingertips holding it lightly at the corners as if it was a precious, old first edition page. She was pretty sure she’d never seen that big of a number in the amount box in person. It even had a comma.

_A comma._

She frowned and slid the check back into the slim little envelope in which she’d found it, tucked at the bottom of the metal box that contained the cash from the library bake sale. At some point during the afternoon it had appeared, without the knowledge of Mary Margaret or herself, but there was no secret who had written it.

Mr. Gold apparently wasn’t joking when he said blueberry muffins were his favorite if he was willing to pay this much for one of them to make a donation to the library. But it didn’t sit right with her. If he wanted to make a generous donation, that was fine, but this was altogether too much. It wouldn’t be right to accept it without speaking to him first, no matter how much she wanted to boost the renovation budget.

This amount would even cover fixing the remaining issues with her former apartment. She’d be able to live above the library again if she wanted, stipend from the city and all. Which meant she would have to move out of the adorable little house she was renting from Mr. Gold. 

Which meant no more daily interactions with Mr. Gold. No more good morning smiles and waves, no more rides home in his car when it rained, no more opportunities to be invited over for tea. She hadn’t actually been invited over for tea yet, but it was far easier for it to happen if she was right across the street. She’d be back to the occasional glimpse when she opened the library, his weekly visits to return a book, or an awkward hello when they met at Granny’s.

Sighing, she looked down at the envelope. That was it then, the real thing that was nagging at her. It wasn’t the money. It was the idea that he might have done it not out of the kindness of his heart, a kindness that most didn’t believe existed, but that he did it to be rid of her. He had offered her a place to stay, a reduced rent, and had seemingly befriend her, but it was possible that she had been reading the situation entirely wrong. Perhaps he was merely tolerating her and she had overstayed her welcome.

There were few people out and about this close to five on a Thursday, but Belle still glanced up and down the street self consciously. The shop door was unlocked, so she pushed it open, the bell clanging harshly in her ears. She stopped just inside and waited until Gold looked up from his ledger book.

“Miss French?” He flipped the book closed and stepped out from behind the counter, leaning with his cane tucked against his hip.

Her eyes looked him up and down, widening when she saw that he was without his usual jacket or waistcoat, and that his tie was loosened. Two gold bands on his arms shimmered in the soft glow of the Tiffany style lamps that illuminated the space. The arm garters were quite old fashioned and probably unnecessary for his obviously tailored shirts, but they made her smile anyway.

Gold frowned and moved forward. “Can I help you?”

Belle shook herself and held out the envelope. He stopped just short of it and his frown deepened.

“I don’t understand?” he said. Then he raised a hand to take the envelope.

“It’s too much,” she said simply, folding her hands in front of her. “So I’m returning it.”

He smiled and shook his head. “I don’t think it’s for you to decide what’s too much, Miss French.”

She sighed. “Mr. Gold, it was very _very_ generous of you, but I can’t -”

“Why not?” he interrupted. “All I do in this town is make money, ask anyone. Why shouldn’t I do something good with it other than hoard it in my lair like a dragon?”

“I - I’m not -” Belle sighed. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do with your money, Mr. Gold, but -”

He looked down at the envelope and then held it out to her. “Then please take it. It will cover the deficit in the city’s budget where the library’s concerned, and let you move forward with the renovations.”

She started at the envelope and his fingers and then followed a path with her eyes up to his face. 

“Please?” he repeated. 

His eyes were soft and earnest, and her chest felt tight. He wanted to do something good, she should have known that.

“Th-thank you, Mr. Gold,” she managed, taking the envelope back and tucking it in the pocket of her skirt. “I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

She turned to go, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. She exhaled and turned around slowly, giving him a chance to move away, but he didn’t.

“Is something wrong?” His voice was quiet and his eyes seemed to be searching hers.

Belle shook her head. “No, I was just - being stupid.”

Gold snorted and folded his hands over the handle of his cane. “You are many things, Miss French, but you are never stupid.”

She smiled and tilted her head. “Yes, well, on occasion...”

He laughed lightly, and she liked the sound entirely too much. His face was so open when he smiled, the lines by his eyes very endearing and a startling change from the impassive and calculating look he usually gave others.

“Not even then,” he insisted. Then he sighed. “I did not mean to offend, Miss French, and if I have, I am sorry. I only wanted to ensure that you secured the funds you needed.”

She smiled again and nodded. “I know,” she said. “And I’m sorry too. I was just - shocked, I guess, and -”

“And you thought I might have some ulterior motive?” he finished for her.

She shrugged a bit, unable to admit what she’d actually been thinking, but he did have a point. Mayor Mills would probably doubt the veracity of his donation, but she wouldn’t necessarily turn it down. He’d probably have to promise something to the city board, or owe her a favor.

“I suppose,” Belle started, looking to the side at the curio cabinet of tea sets, “that there will even be enough to repair my old apartment.”

Gold straightened and frowned. “Oh,” he muttered. “Yes, well, I suppose there will be. Were you, um, thinking of moving back then?”

“No,” she said quickly, noticing the way his shoulders instantly relaxed. Perhaps she’d assumed too much. “No. I - I quite like where I am.” She glanced at his face, and shrugged. “The neighbors are - interesting.”

His lips twitched and he diverted his eyes. “Well, that’s - that’s, um, good,” he managed. “Good.”

Her hand on his brought his attention to her face, and she smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Gold.”

Gold shook his head. “It’s no matter, Miss French.”

She turned to leave again, but stopped when he spoke.

“And I quite agree with you,” he said, waiting to continue until she looked back at him. “About the neighbors, I mean.”

She bit her lip and smiled, and then hurried out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because a couple people asked if they were ever going to have tea together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight warning for Belle mentioning her mother and very brief mention of eating disorders as it relates to girls in performance arts like ballet. These two are idiots and I love them.

Gold eyed her over the rim of his tea cup. “Seriously?”

Belle nodded, smiling, and then sipped her tea. “Yep.”

“ _Ballet_?” he questioned. “As in -” He swept an arm out to his side and then up over his head in a poor imitation of fourth position.

She laughed lightly. “Yes, _ballet_ ,” she said. “Full on, en pointe, going to someday perform in New York, ballet.”

He set down the cup and shook his head in disbelief. “Wow. That’s -”

“I know.” She rolled her eyes. “In my defense, I was eleven.”

Gold frowned. “No,” he said, shifting in his chair. “I was going to say that’s impressive. To dedicate yourself to that kind of thing at such a young age, to work so hard at it -” She looked a bit sheepish so he trailed off. “So how did you end up a librarian then?”

Belle smiled. “Uh, I liked books. A lot.”

Gold chuckled. “Yes, well, I suppose that would be a requirement.”

She sat back in her chair, bringing the cup to her lips again and then paused. “One day I realized that even if I devoted my life and all my school years to studying this _one thing_ , even if I worked at it day and night, and took it into my _soul_...” She stopped again, her hand on her chest, and pressed her lips together. “My class had twenty two girls in it, and some of them were _way_ better than I was. Such a small percentage of dancers get to tour with a major company, and it sort of dawned on me that I wasn’t going to be one of them.”

Gold watched her as she talked about how she probably could have gotten a position at a more local company, or become a choreographer, maybe an instructor. Her face became pinched as she hinted at the girls who already had eating disorders by the time they were twelve, how the stress of practicing and competing for spots in the recitals gnawed at her. Yet the music and the artistry called to her heart and she kept at it from the time she was seven onwards. He felt a bit mesmerized, the same as he had been earlier when he saw her outside. He’d been out getting the mail and there she was, bent down with her hands in the dirt, the sun illuminating her as she swiped a muddy, gloved hand over her forehead. Then she’d stood up and his eyes almost popped right out of his head at the sight of her in jean shorts and a bright yellow tank top.

There was a smudge of dirt above her left eyebrow, grass stains on her knees, and her shirt was probably sweaty, but _god_ she was gorgeous. The impulse to invite her over for tea had overwhelmed him in that moment, and the words rushed out of his mouth before his brain could catch up. It seemed like the day for it, what with the Sunday afternoon weather being so bright and lovely.

He’d asked if she wanted to freshen up first, realizing that he’d interrupted her gardening. She gave him an adorable, sheepish smile and nodded.

_“Yes, thank you. Though I’m almost afraid to see what I look like right now.”_

_He’d just smiled and shook his head. “Nonsense. You’re always lovely.”_

It seemed silly in hindsight, like a lovestruck character in a romantic comedy, but the way her eyes brightened and the beaming smile she gave him was worth sounding like a cliché.

“Anyway,” she continued, “I decided that if the idea of being an instructor or choreographer at a local company and never performing on an iconic, world renowned stage didn’t sound like the happy ending I wanted, then I should quit and figure out what did.”

“Pretty smart for an eleven year old.” Gold gave her a look and poured himself some more tea.

Belle tilted her head and held out her cup. “Yes, well, I was thirteen and my mother was dying by the time I worked all that out.”

The spoon he was holding fell from his fingers and clattered on the saucer. Belle had gone completely quiet, her eyes focused intently on her tea cup which was cradled in her right hand while her left curled into a fist.

“Belle,” he said softly, reaching out to laying his hand over hers. She looked up briefly and shrugged. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

She shut her eyes and swallowed, just barely holding back tears. It never stopped hurting, but it had been years, decades even, and the tiniest thing could bring it all back.

“It’s all right,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

He sighed and pulled his hand back. It was his fault he supposed, a beautiful, single woman living in a town like Storybrooke with no family to speak of living in the area didn’t exactly scream “please ask me about my past.” He just thought that sitting out on the patio in the nice weather with a cup of tea meant maybe they could finally have enough of a conversation to become real friends. And then somehow he’d gotten her to bring up her dead mother.

“It’s not all right,” he said. “And I am sorry.”

Belle shook her head and smiled. “Nothing to be sorry about.” Then she sighed. “I should get going anyway. It’s getting late and I have laundry and things to do before tomorrow morning.”

Gold nodded. “Of course.”

He followed her back into the house, pleased that she remembered how to wind her way back to the front door but still feeling like an arse for letting her go down a rather maudlin road. She stopped and turned to face him at the door, the stained glass and the low sun casting a rainbow around her.

“Thank you,” she said. “This was - nice.”

Gold nodded. “Yes, it - it was. Except for -”

“Stop,” she said firmly. “I went there, not you. And really, it’s fine. I had a nice time.”

He smiled at that and looked back over his shoulder, back down the hallway. “Perhaps...next time you’d like to see the library?”

When he glanced at her face her eyes were wide and she was biting her lip.

“You...have a library?” she asked, one eyebrow arching slightly.

“Oh, yes, Miss French.” He smirked. “Quite an extensive one.”

She made a tiny noise and clasped her hands in front of her. He could just imagine her standing in front of his bookshelves, her delicate fingers trailing over the leather spines as she walked slowly along the wall. She would be lost in her own little world, a soft smile curving one corner of her mouth, and her head tilted in a way that had her hair covering part of her face.

Gold cleared his throat sharply and he reached past her, brushing her shoulder with his arm as he opened the door.

“I’m free next Sunday if you are?” he said, trying to be nonchalant.

She turned, letting her shoulder brush his chest and her skirt flutter around his knees. “I might be,” she replied, looking up at him through her lashes. “I’ll have to check my schedule.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, barely holding back a smile. “You just want to use me for my library.”

Belle giggled. “Well, the tea was nice too.” Then she shook her head and stepped out onto the porch. “Same time next week?”

Gold smiled and nodded. “That sounds lovely.”

She made her way down the steps to the sidewalk. When she looked back over her shoulder, he was still in the doorway, his eyes soft and his lips quirked. He raised a hand to wave and the breeze fluttered his hair. She swore she stopped breathing for a moment.

 _Lovely indeed_ , she thought, and returned his little wave as she crossed the street.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold reminisces about an moment during his last "tea party" with Belle, and works up the courage to ask her on a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me. There is still going to be very little to no angst in this, I'm just setting up for the next chapter which I think will more than please everyone. :) Enjoy the little Skin Deep moment.

Gold had been awake since 5am. 

After yesterday’s tea, and the coffee they’d shared on the Wednesday before, and two Sunday afternoons before that, he was quite certain that he was absolutely smitten with Belle French. Hopelessly, ridiculously, unmistakably in love with her, if he was being honest.

How and when it had happened he didn’t know. Except now that he had acknowledged the emotion that made him smile until his face hurt every time he saw her or thought about her, it seemed like it had always been there. He wanted to try to progress things, move from afternoon tea on Sunday to perhaps dinner on Friday.

And, even better, breakfast on Saturday morning.

He grinned and shook his head. That was putting the cart about ten miles before the horse.

He’d been hoping she would make the first move, given that she was quite ready to hug him and hold his hand and come over for tea. There was a moment yesterday afternoon when they were in his library where he thought - _maybe_. There was a little stool that he kept in the library to help reach the upper shelves. His housekeeper used it when she dusted, so he thought nothing of it when Belle stepped up on it so she could see what volumes comprised the higher tiers of his collection.

She wobbled a bit and he moved closer, trying not to stare as her body stretched and she rose up on her toes, making her legs look even longer and lovelier. Then she cried out, and he sprang to action with an agility he didn’t know he still possessed.

Belle fell backwards off the stool right into Gold. He grunted with the impact but managed to stay upright, his arms curling around her to hold her against his chest. He blinked, still staring up at the bookshelves as if they would provide the answers as to what should happen now. A moment later he was gazing into her eyes, and her face was dangerously close to his. She was wide eyed and her lips were parted ever so slightly. Hot puffs of her breath ghosted over his lips and he licked them unconsciously.

She started to say something, but then seemed to lose her train of thought, managing only a small, dazed _thank you_. He blinked again and shook himself, setting her down as carefully as he could manage. His leg was going to be killing him later, but right now he could feel nothing but the lingering warmth of having her body pressed against his.

Things were momentarily awkward until Belle looked at him and laughed and the tension was broken. But the feeling of holding her so close stayed with him the rest of the day and sent him off to sleep with a soft smile curving his lips.

If today went as well as he hoped, he planned to wander his way over to the library in the afternoon, and see where things went. He thought that maybe just seeing her smiling face would make him brave enough to ask her out. Somewhere nice, with actual tablecloths and warm ambient lighting. Marco’s perhaps, or they could drive down to Portland where there were plenty more options. Or he could make her dinner. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been in his house several times, and there was sort of a natural progression from tea and snacks to wine and dinner.

Gold glanced at the clock and then his eyes went wide. He dropped the rag he’d been using to dust, and grabbed his cane, limping quickly to the door of his shop. The library would be closing in fifteen minutes and he’d let himself get caught up in reminiscing and daydreaming. But as he stepped outside he saw Belle across the street and stopped.

She was talking with Ruby Lucas as she closed and locked the library door, apparently ending her workday a bit early. They were talking rather animatedly and then Ruby tossed her hair back, laughing. He frowned and watched as they turned and linked arms, walking down the sidewalk towards Granny’s. He thought about following them and seeing if he could catch a moment with Belle where he might be able to bring up dinner, but he preferred to keep such a conversation as private as possible. And if she did turn him down, he wouldn’t want anyone to be able to overhear.

 _No matter_ , he thought, smiling to himself. It had been a long day, and he was tired. Belle would be at the library in the morning, and he was sure to have come up with some book he just had to borrow immediately.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold finally gets up the courage to ask Belle to dinner, with surprising results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me. ;) This is all setup for goodness in the next chapter. I PROMISE!

Gold wasn’t sure what had possessed him to march across the street at three-thirty that afternoon.

He had been sitting in the backroom of shop, thinking about how to ask Belle to dinner, as he had for the last three days. His mind ran through everything from a casual comment as they ordered their morning coffee, to sending her a dozen roses with some poetic note. Yesterday morning he’d almost done it while they were at Granny's, but then Ruby had interrupted and the moment was lost. Now the week was almost over and he was feeling a bit desperate.

Thunder rumbled overhead as he’d hurried across the road, his cane tapping loudly against the pavement. It had been threatening rain all day, and it seemed fitting that now it would choose to manifest. The clouds swirled overhead, darkening slowly and casting a shadow over the street, like the build up to a dramatic moment in a movie. 

Just as the first drops landed in his head, he pushed open the door to the library and came face to face with Belle French. He startled and she gasped, taking a step back and pressing a hand to her chest. Her face was flushed, her eyes wide, and without thinking he’d blurted out his invitation.

And she’d rejected him.

Oh, she was polite about it, apologizing and starting to explain how she just couldn’t this evening, she had plans. But he knew what it all meant. He’d been on the receiving end of that kind of brush off before. An ex-wife who couldn’t stand the sight of him, and a failed proposal some years later had given him all the rejection experience he needed.

So he muttered a quick apology and turned away from her, hurrying through the library doors and out into the rain. He was an idiot for ever thinking he had a chance. Just because she was nice to him and smiled a lot, just because she laughed at his frequently sardonic humor and tended to linger in his shop on her days off, didn't mean she was interested in anything romantic. She was probably bored and looking for a friend. Now he'd gone and messed it all up.

_Stupid stupid stupid._

Gold frowned at an unusually sharp sound, and stopped with the glass of scotch halfway to his lips. He waited and the sound came again, a knocking that echoed through the old house and made him keenly aware of how empty it was. He set his drink on the small table next to his favorite leather chair and pushed to his feet. A third knock came, and he limped into the hallway and towards the front door.

Visitors to the pink Victorian on the dead end lane were few and far between. Most people waited to catch him in his shop or avoided him entirely. In the last few months, the only person to knock on his front door had been Belle, but he was quite sure after his earlier foible that the last person it would be was her. 

He hoped he wasn’t leaving his scotch and comfy chair behind just to find out it was a salesman with questionable wares, or Sister Astrid attempting to unload more candles, or worse yet, schoolchildren selling candy. Word had gotten around that he had a weakness for those little caramel filled chocolate squares. Leaning forward as he braced on his cane, he peered through the peephole and froze. It was definitely not a middle schooler, nun, or pushy salesman.

Belle French was standing on his front porch.

He straightened and swallowed, contemplating going back to the study for some liquid courage. When she raised her hand, ready to knock again, he blew out a breath and yanked open the door

“Umm, hey,” she said, biting her bottom lip as she took him in.

Her eyes swept over him and he felt his face flush. 

“Hey,” he said softly. She was dressed very casually in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. “Is - everything okay?”

Belle shook her head and looked over her shoulder. “Not really,” she said, looking back at him with a half frown. “My side of the street has been without power for the last hour.”

Gold glanced at the little house Belle was renting from him, then stuck his head out and looked up and down the street. Everything on her side was dark, no streetlights, no glow from the windows, nothing. Yet his house was fine. 

The rain from earlier had turned into quite the storm, though it had been short lived. By the time he’d closed up his shop and arrived home, the thunder and lightening was over, and it was barely drizzling. Now, a heavy humidity clung to the air, signaling that another round of storms was on the way tonight. It was a blessed relief from the heat of late summer, but also wreaked a bit of havoc on the infrastructure of the small town.

He frowned.“Oh. I guess I hadn’t noticed.”

She sighed. “Yeah, it was out when I got home, and I thought _maybe_ with the break in the weather that they could get it back on in time, but the app on my phone is saying the outage won’t be fixed for another two hours.”

Gold shook his head. “That’s bloody _terrible_ service.”

She laughed humorlessly and shifted from one foot to the other. “You’re telling me.”

“So, um,” he started, frowning. “Did you want me to make a call or -?”

Belle’s eyes went wide. “Oh! No, no!” Then she sighed and lifted up a nondescript black duffel bag and what looked like a dress covered in plastic from a dry cleaners. “I was hoping that maybe I could, uh, use your bathroom?”

Gold blinked and pulled back. “I, um, I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

She bit her lip and looked down the street for a moment before turning back to him. “Well, it’s just that I kinda have a date tonight, and I was wondering if I could use your shower and maybe get ready here?”

_Oh._

That explained why Belle had tried to let him down easy. She was already seeing someone. He wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse, but the words _‘of course, please come in,’_ were leaving his mouth before he finished processing this new information.

Belle flashed him a brilliant smile and thanked him before stepping past him into the house. He turned and motioned towards the stairs, which she was already standing on, and managed to get out directions to some fresh towels in the hall closet. She already knew where the bathroom was, having used it on a couple of her previous visits.

The second she was out of sight, Gold retreated to his study. He let his head fall against the back of his leather chair. It was just his luck that by the time he’d gotten up the courage to ask her to dinner she already had a date with someone else. Now, the woman he’d fallen for, rather hopelessly, was upstairs, naked in his shower, getting ready for a date with someone else.

He sighed and glanced at the drink on the side table, wondering how many it would take to forget that fact.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle goes on her date while Gold broods, with more surprising results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was clearly the fic that everyone wanted updated, and here it is. We are in the home stretch with these two idiots. I have the next chapter "done" but still needing tweaks, and the final chapter started!

Gold listened to the sound of water rushing through the pipes of his old Victorian house and groaned. He picked up his drink, downed the rest of the glass, blowing out a slow, warm breath after he swallowed. Presumably, Belle French, the woman of his dreams, was not ten meters away from where he was standing, in his guest bathroom, in the shower.

_Naked._

He sank into his leather chair and looked up at the ceiling. His mind loved to torture him with the one thing he did not want to think about, which these days almost always came back to Belle. Having her as a neighbor across the street, having her as a friend, was wonderful, but he couldn’t help wanting it to be so much more. Up until today he had thought she wanted that too, that she was simply waiting for him to make the first move.

But if she was interested in more than friendship, would she have a date with someone else?

He pushed to his feet and limped to the bar, bracing on the back of the sofa as we went. He poured himself another drink, smaller this time, and turned on the TV, seeking anything that would distract him from Belle and her date and her current state of undress. Tennis, some late afternoon talk show, a Law and Order rerun, and god knows what nonsense on the news. He huffed and flipped it back to tennis, eyeing his empty glass before he zoned out to the monotonous back and forth of the match.

Barely forty minutes after she’d arrived on his doorstep looking sheepish and desperate, Belle padded down the stairs in her bare feet. A pair of shoes dangled from the fingers of her left hand, and she set them down, balancing on the large newel post at the bottom of the stairs while she slipped them on.

Gold stood in the doorway of the study, watching her and trying not to let his gaze linger too long on her legs and the way the height of her heels accented those slender, toned calves. She straightened and turned to him, smiling, and his breath caught. Her hair lay in thick, soft curls over her shoulders, and his hand clenched unconsciously at his side, his fingers aching to touch it. Her dress was a deep blue that made her eyes look dazzling, with a sheer lace overlay. She twisted to either side, making the flared skirt swish over her knees. The slim red belt at her waist matched her heels, and gave the outfit a spark of personality and natural vibrancy he’d come to associate with her.

“How do I look?” she asked, her eyebrows lifting in a way that suggested she was actually nervous about his answer.

Gold blinked, and let his eyes flick up and down her body.

 

_Stunning. Gorgeous. Incredible._

His mouth opened, and any of those words would have been the perfect thing to say, but all he managed was a stuttered, “F-fine.”

Belle’s face fell a bit as she looked down at herself. “Oh, um,” she looked at him, her lips twisting in a frown. “Should I change?”

“No!” he blurted. “Not - not just _fine._ I mean you look...”

_Lovely. Splendid. Beautiful._

“...good.”

“Thanks.” She gave him a strange look and then turned. “I should get going.”

“Have a nice evening,” he said, lamely, fidgeting with his cane and glancing up just as she stepped outside.

She flashed a small smile over her shoulder and let the front door shut with a very final sounding thud.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Gold sighed internally and changed the channel for probably the hundredth time. There was nothing interesting to watch and it had started raining a short time ago, so he’d been alternating between counting the space between the lightning and thunder, and mentally berating himself for being completely useless. He could talk circles around the mayor and the district attorney, he knew the perfect wording to trap an unsuspecting person into a legal and very binding contract, but being around Belle made all the slick and careful words he was known for vanish. He was a grade schooler at a presidential debate.

He was hopeless, and hopelessly in love, and she was on a date with someone else.

A sharp knock at the door startled him and he glanced at the grandfather clock by the bookcase. Belle had only been gone an hour, leaving him quite shocked to see her standing on the front porch looking utterly dejected and wet from the storm.

“Belle!”

She looked up at him with the saddest eyes he’d ever seen, almost as sad as the day he’d walked into the library and found out she was homeless.

“Are you all right?” he asked, reaching for her. “Come inside, sweetheart.”

Belle sniffled a bit and let him take her arm, stumbling a bit as she stepped into the house. He bid her to wait and then hurried to the powder room behind the stairs and grabbed a small hand towel. When he came back she was still standing there, looking at her shoes, watching the water drip from the ends of her hair onto the floor.

“Belle?” He held out the towel to her as he tried to figure out what might be wrong.

She forced a smile and accepted the towel, dabbing gently at her face and then squeezing the ends of her hair. 

“Did your date not, uh,” he paused and tilted his head, twisting his cane in his hand, “go according to plan?”

Belle groaned and let her head drop back for a moment. “What ever gave you that idea?”

Gold gave her a sympathetic look born from several failed dates, relationships, and marriages. “I see the power is still out at your place, would you, um, like to stay and have a drink?” He motioned towards the door to the library.

She visibly relaxed and let out a heavy sigh. “That would be lovely. Just let me go change quick?” 

He nodded, and went back into the study while she went upstairs to change out of her damp dress and back into the sweats she’d arrived in. Once again Belle French was in his upstairs guest bathroom. 

Naked.

This was getting to be a habit, and as much as he liked the idea of it, the reality was going to give him a heart attack.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Movies, popcorn, and communication.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, the home stretch. I anticipate one more chapter to close this out.

Gold was standing at the bar, eyeing the bottle of scotch he’d been drinking earlier when Belle came back down. “I know how you take your tea, but not what you prefer to drink,” he said, turning with the bottle in his hand. 

She flopped down on the sofa, folding her legs under her, and smiled. “Whatever you’re having is fine.”

Gold moved around the small coffee table and held out one of the glasses for her to take, then sat himself at the other end of the sofa. Belle took a small sip of the scotch, shivering a little at the unfamiliar burn.

“I have wine if that’s too strong,” he offered, setting his own glass on the side table. He’d already had two earlier and he wasn’t about to get completely pissed with her around.

Belle took another sip and hummed as she sank back into the soft leather. “No, thank you,” she replied, lifting her hand to lick a stray drop from her thumb. “This is definitely the good stuff.”

Gold chuckled. “Indeed it is.” He turned so he could look at her better, relaxing now that she was back from her obviously failed date. He felt a stab of guilt, being pleased over her misfortune, but anything that brought Belle to his house and made her curl up on his couch in sweatpants, made him very happy indeed.

“So what happened?”

“He never showed up,” she said simply, resting the glass of scotch on her knee as she held onto the bottom. “I got all dressed up, did my hair, and went all the way across town to Marco’s... just to get stood up.”

She gestured with her glass at the end, and then took another sip.

Gold made a grumbling sound. “Well, whoever it was is an idiot who doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

Belle smiled and looked away for a moment. “It’s fine, it wasn’t - anything.”

He huffed and twisted on the sofa. “It’s not fine, and you’re entitled to be upset, especially since you had to walk back in the rain.” Then he frowned as though he just realized something. “You could have called, you know. I would have come and picked you up.”

She shrugged and took another drink. “I didn’t want to bother you,” she said. “I’d already availed myself of your bathroom and shower, and it’s not like it’s the first time it’s ever happened.”

“What?” He shook his head and clenched his teeth, thinking of the moron who had made her feel anything less than the beautiful, desirable woman she was. “Who wouldn’t want to go on a date with you?”

She let out a snort and a humorless laugh. “Apparently _lots_ of people.”

He looked at her, stunned, and she shrugged, flicking at the ridges it he glass with her fingernail. His eyes were dark and warm, with little lines at the corners. He’d shed his suit jacket and waistcoat, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He looked more casual than their Sunday teas. Something shifted and his lips parted slightly, and she wondered what it’d be like to kiss him with the lingering taste of scotch on their tongues.

Gold swallowed, caught in the long, quiet moment as Belle gazed at him. In a moment of unexpectedly bravery, he shifted closer and reached out to brush her hair back over her shoulder. It was cool and still damp from the rain, but just as soft as he’d imagined. He dared to let his fingers trail down the fat curl to the end.

“Stunning,” he said softly, and her head tilted in question. “That’s what I meant to say earlier, when you came downstairs.”

She blushed and looked down at her glass before setting it on the coffee table. “Thank you,” she replied, unfolding her legs and moving in a way that put her almost right next to him. There was no more than an inch between their legs now. “And _yes_ was what I meant to say.”

He frowned again.

“To dinner,” she added. “When you asked me earlier today. But I had already been goaded into this _awful_ date and I thought it would be rude to cancel, so -”

She shrugged, and Gold’s heart felt like it might burst from his chest. “That’s quite all right, I understand.”

“Kinda worked out in the end though,” she said, leaning to the side to bump her shoulder against his. He looked at her sideways, and she grinned.

“Indeed it has.”

At that moment her stomach grumbled rather loudly, almost echoing in the high ceiled room. Belle’s face went red as Gold laughed.

“Oh, hush!” she admonished. “I didn’t get anything to eat, and all they had on the table was a couple dinner rolls.”

“I could make you something now?” he offered.

Belle bit her lip, enjoying the way his eyes seem to jump from her eyes to her mouth and back again. “Are you sure?”

He gave her a look and braced on his cane, pushing to his feet. “Of course. It’s no matter.” Then he held out a hand to her, and she took it as she stood. “I haven’t really eaten much either.”

“We could watch a movie afterwards,” she suggested as they made their way to the kitchen. “If there’s still no power at my house, I mean.”

Gold hooked his cane on one of the barstools at the island and started taking things out of the fridge. “Even if there is,” he said offhandedly, as he selected a knife. “Looks like I have everything to make some pasta and sauce?”

“I never say no to noodles.” Then she grinned. “Any preference on genre of movie?”

He looked up from the onion he’d started chopping and gave her a look. “As long as it’s not comprised solely of gunfire and explosions, or teenagers running from some horrific monster, I’m sure whatever you pick will be fine.”

She laughed, and he smiled, his kitchen feeling warmer and lighter than it had in years.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

They ate their dinner side by side on the sofa in the study, with their socked feet propped up on the coffee table. One movie turned into two, dinner turned into buttered popcorn, and the storm outside waxed and waned. Eventually, there was a visible glow through the front window, coming from across the street, and he knew she’d have to return home soon.

He didn’t mind at all, though, especially after she had curled into his side halfway through the second movie. Her hand was over his, resting together on his knee, and he kept catching the faint scent of vanilla from her hair. He was starting to think this was a rather nice impromptu date, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up. 

The credits rolled on the second movie, and Belle sat up, stretching her arms over her head before she stood. He felt a strange loneliness without her by his side, and it strengthened his resolve to try again, to ask her on a proper date where there was no mistaking their intentions. She bent and picked up his cane from where it had slid down to the rug, and handed it to him, waiting as he pushed himself up. Without a word she looped her arm through his and walked with him to the front door.

“Thank you,” she said with a quiet, sleepy voice. “For everything.”

Gold shook his head and looked down at her, his hand covering hers on his forearm. “It was no matter, sweetheart.”

Belle smiled and bit her lip at the little endearment, the second time he’d used it this evening. She liked it, and she was quite happy to have him continue using it. On impulse, she squeezed his arm, using it to pull him towards her as she pushed up on her toes. Her lips brushed softly against his, and when he didn’t move, she did it again, pressing a little more firmly. There was no mistake - she kissed him. 

When she dropped back on her heels, he was staring at her, eyes wide and mouth open. She licked her lips and tasted salt, just a few little grains leftover from the popcorn. “This was a much better date than what I would have had, even if that guy had showed up.”

Gold smiled at her and reached up to brush a stray curl from her cheek and tuck it behind her ear. “His loss is my gain.”

Her head dipped slightly, and she turned her face into his palm, reaching up with her hand to wrap her fingers around his wrist. His thumb swept over her cheek, and she thought about kissing him again, but before she could he leaned in and touched his lips to her cheek, then the corner of her mouth.

When he pulled back, she was smiling broadly. “Goodnight.”

He nodded and opened the door for her. “Goodnight, Belle.”

He followed her outside and stood on the porch, watching until she was safely across the street and inside. When the light in her living room switched off, he smiled and went back inside.

For once it seemed like his hopes were just right.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold finally asks Belle on a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said one more chapter, then three, but I decided to put two of the chapters together and then an epilogue. I just kept writing, and these two dorks just kept being adorable and wanting me finish their whole story. So there's going to be two more chapters, including this one. A total of 11. I know, I know. I'm a lying liar who lies. ;)

To say Gold thought about that soft, brief kiss was an understatement.

It didn’t just linger in his mind, it moved in, remodeled the place, and signed a lifetime lease. He fell asleep touching his mouth, remembering how she smelled and the sensation of her lips. When he awoke, there was a lightness in his chest that he couldn’t recall feeling in some time. All morning, as he worked in his study, reviewing contracts and balancing his accounts, he found himself at the window, gazing at Belle’s house.

_Belle’s house._

Despite the fact that she was renting it from him and had only been a tenant for a few months, he had come to think of it as hers. It felt like it had always been so, that the house was simply biding its time, never knowing what it was missing until _she_ arrived, breathing light and light into the empty spaces within its walls. Just as he had been waiting.

The grandfather clock chimed eleven, and Gold blew out a breath as he pushed back from his desk. Nervous energy made him pace back and forth by the front door before he finally opened it and stepped outside. He looked across the tree lined road, feeling his lips twitch as a smile crept over his face.

The curtains were open in the front living room, and the potted plants were back on the front porch. Belle had moved them inside to save them from being pummeled by the storm. She was definitely awake and home, as far as he could tell.

He started down the front steps before his courage evaporated, and a moment later found himself at Belle's door. He knocked and then steeled himself, repeating the words he'd been practicing since the previous evening ended. The door opened and his mouth gaped as Belle smiled up at him. She was wearing a green dress that flared above her knees and a short black cardigan. Her hair was pulled back on the sides and fell to her shoulders in loose, wavy curls.

She was beautiful and his brain had suddenly forgotten what he was supposed to say.

“Good morning,” she said, her grin widening. “Did you sleep well?”

Gold nodded dumbly. “Y-yes,” he managed. “And you?”

She nodded and then stepped back. “Are you here to see if there was any damage from the storm?”

He shook his head. “No, I trust you’d tell me if there was, and I usually have Mr. Dove check on all my properties after severe weather.” Her head tilted in question, and he exhaled slowly. “I - I just came over to ask you if, um, if you wanted dinner.” Her eyebrows lifted slightly and her lips parted. 

“With me,” he added.

She giggled and for a brief moment he thought she was going to laugh him off her front porch. But all negative thoughts were banished when she took hold of his free hand, pushed up on her toes, and pressed her lips to his. He made a small noise of surprise and then reached for her, gently cupping her cheek. The kiss was firm and lingering, and he felt her start to smile before she pulled away.

“I was hoping you’d ask again,” she said, curling her fingers further into his and giving his hand a squeeze.

Gold let out a short laugh and shook his head. “Well, I’m glad I managed it then.”

Belle bit her lip and stepped fully out onto the porch, inching forward until the toes of her shoes were almost touching his. Her hands slid up the lapels of his suit jacket and then down again, and he wondered if she could feel how his heart was pounding just from her proximity.

“Truthfully,” she started, “if you hadn’t, I would have been at your door asking you.”

He smiled and took hold of both her hands, lifting them to his lips and kissing each one. “Then I suppose tonight isn’t too soon?”

She shook her head, still smiling. “Tonight is perfect.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Gold wasn’t sure he could remember ever being this content. At least not since his son was just a wee babe and life hadn’t beaten him down too badly. They walked along the street in the cool night air, Belle’s arm tucked into his, their shoulders brushing with every step.

Dinner had gone better than he’d ever imagined. After the first few awkward minutes, the conversation became easy, and he lost himself more than once in her eyes and the passion with which she talked about everything. The evening flew by, much to his delight and disappointment. One minute they were ordering wine and antipasto at Marco’s, and the next, she was holding out a bite of her tiramisu for him to eat. She even moved around to sit at the side of the table, instead of across from him. Her eyes sparkled with something like mischief as he leaned in and pulled the dessert off her fork.

They arrived at his car, still parked in front of his shop, and before he could open the passenger door for her, she tipped her face up for another kiss. It was becoming quite the regular thing, and he was more than happy to do so whenever she liked.

“Well, that went considerably better than my last date,” Belle said, as they pulled away from the curb.

Gold chuckled and reached for her hand, smiling when she readily threaded her fingers through his. “I would hope so.” 

She hummed and looked out the window. “The food was good, the wine was excellent, and my date even showed up.”

He shook his head and then weighed his words for a moment before asking the thing that had been on his mind since last night when she showed up looking so wet and sad. “Has that, uh, happened to you a lot?”

She shrugged and glanced back at him. “That was the third time,” she said softly. “The first was this boy in high school who I thought was nice, but he turned out to be a huge jerk. The second was some guy at university that I honestly didn’t even want to go out with in the first place. And then, last night.”

Gold frowned. He still couldn’t imagine anyone wouldn’t want to spend time with Belle. She was intelligent, funny, and gorgeous. She could snore like a bear and he’d still be completely in love with her.

“Why?”

The question was out before his brain had caught up to his mouth, and he chastised himself silently. It was bad enough he’d make her bring up her mother’s death when they’d only just been getting to know each other. Now, he was asking her to explain what were certainly painful details about her past relationships. To his surprise, she laughed.

Belle shook her head and smiled at Gold. He gave her such a befuddled look and she couldn’t help it. He truly didn’t understand why anyone wouldn’t want to date her, and the thought charmed her. The way he looked at her had been different than anyone else, almost from the moment they’d met. It was like he was a little bit in awe, like he couldn’t believe she’d even speak to him, and she wondered if she looked at him the same way.

“Let’s just say that I went through a bit of an awkward stage,” she said, with a wry smile. “From about age four until twenty-five.”

Gold sputtered and then laughed. “Seriously?” he questioned as he turned the corner onto their quiet little street. “But you were a ballerina.”

She shrugged again. “I had fuzzy hair, a gap between my front teeth, and the only time I was graceful was when I was dancing. One time in secondary school I tripped up the stairs, picked myself up, and immediately walked into a door.”

He blinked at her in disbelief.

“The principal even laughed at me,” she said, sighing and letting her gaze drift to the window again. “It was a long time ago, but -”

His hand squeezing hers made her turn back, and the look in his eyes was so full of adoration she thought she might cry. She swallowed hard and squeezed back, her chest aching with emotions she’d been wanting to express for some time. It had been entirely too easy to fall for him.

“We’re here,” he said softly.

Their gazes lingered on each other for a moment, before he reluctantly opened the door and got out of the car. She waited until he came around to her side, finding his old-fashioned sensibilities rather sweet, and then took his hand as she stood.

He walked her to her door, and Belle looked up at him, her hand still holding his, the two of them standing much as they had this morning. “Thank you,” she said. “I had a lovely time.”

Gold nodded. “As did I.” 

She stepped closer and he didn’t hesitate to bend his head and kiss her. One kiss lead to another, and then he couldn’t help himself. His hands went to her waist to hold her close as his cane fell to the side and clattered on the porch, and her arms slid up over his shoulders, one hand at the back of his neck as her fingers played with his hair. 

She broke the kiss and looked up at him. Her chest was rising and falling faster than normal, and despite the rain bringing cooler temperatures, she felt warm from head to toe.

Gold licked his lips and tried to slow his own breathing. His face felt flushed and he was afraid of taking things too far. They’d spent months flirting and getting to know one another, but this was only their first date. “I was going to ask if you wanted to have breakfast. Perhaps brunch at Granny’s?”

Belle grinned and let her hands slide down over his chest, her fingers tracing the pattern in his tie. “I’d like that.”

He flashed her a smile and then stepped back, waiting as she bent to pick up his cane. “Goodnight, Belle.”

“Goodnight,” she said, then stretched up again and kissed his cheek.

He made it to the bottom of the steps before she called out to him. “Maybe next time you could _make_ me breakfast?” 

His head tilted slightly. “French toast for Miss French?”

She giggled and arched an eyebrow, the look on her face amused and nearly sinful at the same time. “It’s a deal, Mr. Gold.”

Gold laughed and nodded, and she gave him a little wave before closing her front door. He crossed the street to his own home, and then looked back over his shoulder. There was a figure in the window surrounded by a warm, glowing light that paused for a long moment, and then drew the curtains. He smiled to himself, and stepped inside, trying to remember where he’d put the recipe for his Aunt Millie’s praline pecan french toast.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nice little epilogue to wrap things up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!! Loads of thanks to everyone who support this little fic that could, from a random one-shot prompt, to its stupidly long hiatus, all the way to 11 chapters of dorks in love, so many of you stuck with it. I still can't believe this is one of my most popular fics. A special thank you to the wonderful leni-ba who gave me the initial prompt that started the whole thing, and to the1ultimatefan for your incredible comments that kept spurring me on.

The ground was squishy under Gold’s shoes, soaked with the heavy spring rains that had fallen for the last two nights. He looked up at the little house and sighed.

“You’re sure this is what you want?” he asked, casting a glance over his shoulder to Belle.

She gave him a sympathetic look. “Yes, I’m sure,” she said softly. “We talked about this, and it’s for the best. For both of us.”

He nodded reluctantly. There was a sadness in seeing her leave the house, as there was with all change, but it hadn’t really been hers for a while. His heart however, was another matter.

“All right then,” he said, turning to face her.

She brandished a large hammer and grinned at him, as he sighed again and fixed her with a look. “Just don’t hit my fingers this time.”

Her face fell and her hand dropped to her side. “That was _one time_!”

Gold smirked. “One too many trips to Dr. Whale.”

“Oh shut up,” she said, rolling her eyes and stepping forward with the hammer raised.

Two strong hits was all it took to plant the sign in the yard, neither of which was on his fingers. Then they stepped back together, standing on the sidewalk in front of the house she’d rented from him for the better part of a year.

“It’ll be good,” she said firmly.

He turned his head and looked down at her. “Yeah?” 

Belle leaned into him, bumping her shoulder against his arm. “ _Yes._ And who knows, you might actually _like_ your new neighbor.”

__

__

The look he gave her was unconvinced, and finally she took his hand, leading him back across the street where her new car was parked in front of his, the backseat filled with a row of boxes.

“Is this the last of it then?” he asked.

“I think so,” she replied. “But I’ll drop them off at the school later. It will be a good start for the little free library.”

Gold smiled at her. “You have so many wonderful ideas, sweetheart.”

Belle beamed at him and moved closer, her arms coming up to circle his neck and pull him down for a kiss. She felt him smile against her lips as she wound her fingers in his hair, careful not to let it catch on her shiny new diamond ring. She couldn’t wait to wear it out to dinner tonight, their first night out together as an engaged couple.

Gold broke the kiss and on impulse, filled with an overwhelming giddy happiness, he lifted her just a bit and spun around on his good leg. They came to a wobbly stop, but her peal of delighted laughter was worth any twinge of pain he might have later.

“Let’s go get changed,” he said, taking her hand as they walked up the steps to the stately, pink Victorian they’d been sharing since Christmas.

The door to the house closed just as a gust of wind blew down the little street, wobbling the little sign in the front yard of Belle’s former house.

_For rent._


End file.
